Too Little, Too Late

by Marta Tandori

  Their destination was Lars Thomassen’s farm, remotely located outside of Alesund. The farm was primitive by anyone’s standards and without any nearby neighbors to look after the property, the farm had fallen into neglect while Lars had been away at war. Any gratitude Katya may have felt for Lars rescuing them from the hell that had been the internment camp was soon tempered by the stark realization that they had been purchased to serve as unpaid laborers on his farm. As the weeks wore on, Katya and Lilly discovered that their savior was prone to violent outbursts of anger when things weren’t done to his satisfaction. Of course, they were too young to understand that Lars’ anger stemmed from an unadulterated hate of the very ideals their existence represented but Sonja Holberg knew this, and took what little consolation she could from the bottles of plum brandy she’d discovered in Lars’ cellar shortly after their arrival.

  ***

  The steam rising from the water-logged goose lying in the metal tub in front of them stunk, filling the drafty summer kitchen with a foul odor.

  Lilly looked at the scrawny goose with misgiving. “Maybe we should wait for Mama to come back.”

  Their mother had gone inside earlier to get a sweater but had not yet returned.

  “We can’t,” Katya told her. “Mama says once the water cools, it’s harder to pluck out the little pin feathers from its wings.” She gingerly took hold of the goose’s foot and pushed it further into the tub until its entire body was submerged under the boiling water.

  Just then Lilly coughed, a deep, rattling cough from inside her chest that left her clinging weakly to the side of the old worktable.

  “Are you getting sick?” Katya asked worriedly. Lilly’s coughing had become worse since they’d arrived at the farm, exacerbated by the cold Arctic air. The years in the camp had taken their toll on Lilly, both physically as well as mentally, and her sister was extremely thin to the point of being frail. Although Lilly had been Katya’s protector in the past, their roles had slowly reversed over time without either girl having become consciously aware of it.

  “I’m all right,” her sister replied, managing a weak smile. “Worry about the goose instead of me.”

  Katya nodded. “Let’s start with the legs and work our way up its body. Mama will have less to do when she gets back.”

  The two girls set about plucking the goose, quickly yanking at handfuls of wet feathers. The water was scalding hot, making their task difficult. Although the outer layer of feathers came out easily enough, the fine down underneath it was harder to grasp. By the time they got to the wings, their small fingers were numb and their nails soft, making it difficult to grasp the toughened pin feathers.

  Lilly coughed again, harder this time, until a thin sheen of sweat had broken out across her forehead and upper lip.

  Katya handed her an old towel to mop her forehead. “You are getting sick!”

  “No, I’m not,” Lilly argued stubbornly. The words were barely out of her mouth before she launched into yet another coughing fit, her spittle staining the towel with slimy mucous tinged with flecks of bright red.

  “You shouldn’t be out here in the cold. It’s making your cough worse.” Katya stared at her sister’s flushed cheeks worriedly. “Go find Mama and ask her to make you some of her peppermint tea.”

  Her sister looked dubiously at the half-plucked goose. “I promise I’ll help you finish the goose when I get back.”

  “Don’t worry about me. Just go.” Katya went back to her plucking, trying not to worry about her sister. She had just finished the one wing and was about to start on the other one when Lilly came rushing back.

  “Katya, come quick!” she cried. “Mama’s been at it again!”

  Katya swiped her hands on the back of her trousers as she quickly followed her sister through the main kitchen and living quarters, into the small bedroom at the back of the farmhouse Lars had demanded their mother share with him. Sonja Holberg was sprawled across the bed, an empty bottle clutched in her hand.

  “Mama!” Katya rushed over to the bed, taking the empty bottle from her mother’s unresisting hand before smelling it. It smelled just like the others from the cellar. “Open your eyes!” When Sonja didn’t respond, Katya vigorously rubbed her cheeks until her mother groaned.

  Lilly looked at the clock on the wall. “We’ve got to do something. You know how Lars gets when Mama is late with supper.”

  “Go make some strong coffee and get Mama to drink all of it.”

  “There’s not much left of the rations,” Lilly pointed out.

  “Use it anyway,” Katya told her, looking at their mother’s prone form on the bed. “You have to make sure Mama’s up by the time Lars gets back from the bush.”

  “What about supper?”

  “Don’t worry about supper,” Katya tried to sound confident. “I’ll make it.”

  She hurried back to the summer kitchen and plunged her waterlogged fingers into the cooling water, determined to clean the rest of the bird. When she was done, she eyed the bird’s damaged skin and scraggly pinfeathers with misgiving. Somehow, it didn’t look as good as when her mother did it, but it would have to do. She picked up the wet goose by one of its legs and struggled to carry it into the main kitchen, before laying it in the roasting pan on the table. Dipping her fingers into the small pot on the counter, Katya massaged duck lard into the goose’s body, as she had seen her mother do, before seasoning it with liberal amounts of salt and pepper. Adding a little water the bottom of the roasting pan, she put the goose into the oven before throwing more wood in the old stove.

  Running down into the cold cellar, she hunted around in the sand pile until her fingers latched on to some wrinkled potatoes, a few rotting carrots and an onion. Carrying them back upstairs, she washed them and prepared them for cooking. Noting the time with mounting dread, she swallowed her panic and opened the oven door. Her senses were immediately assaulted by a strange smell. She pulled out the goose, checking it worriedly. Although it looked more or less like a roasting goose was supposed to look, it didn’t smell right. She shoved the pan back into the oven and reassured herself it would smell better once it had finished roasting. Katya put the few precious potatoes on the stove to boil and went to set the table. She was just tidying the summer kitchen when she heard the whinny of horses as Lars’ wagon came to a stop outside the house. Rushing back inside, Katya was relieved to find her mother at the sink, draining the pot of potatoes.

  “Mama? Are you all right?”

  Her mother nodded, although her hand shook as she reached for the pot of lard. “I just need a minute, Katya.”

  When Lars’ tall frame filled the doorway a few minutes later, tensions were thick as the girls nervously set the food on the table.

  “What’s that stink?” he asked by way of greeting.

  “Roast goose,” Sonja told him, her hand nervously smoothing a few strands of hair from her face. “Did you finish bringing in all the wood?”

  “The wagon’s full,” he replied as he sat down and helped himself to the boiled potatoes and carrots. “We can unload it tomorrow.”

  “I was hoping to go into town tomorrow,” she told him timidly. “We need some supplies…and…I need some things to make a poultice…Lilly’s coughing has gotten worse.”

  “Tomorrow we unload the wood.” His tone brooked no refusal as he took his fork and knife and cut into the goose’s leg. Separating it from the rest of the body, he put it on his plate before attacking the other leg. Next he went to the breast, making a vertical incision down the length of the goose, stopping in surprise when the goose’s belly squirted a greenish liquid, filling the room with a rancid odor.

  “What’s this?”

  “What do you mean?” asked Sonja, staring at the goose with growing alarm.

  “This…this green…” He pierced the goose’s stomach again and more liquid came out. He glared at the goose before turning his wrath on Sonja. “You stupid bitch! You left the goddamn guts in the goose!” With a viciou
s backhand, he slapped her hard across the face, sending her reeling from her chair.

  “Mama!” cried Lilly.

  A second backhand sent the goose and dishes in front of him flying as the girls cowered in their chairs. Lars leapt from the table and grabbed Sonja by the throat. “Is this how you treat your man? Feed him the shit from a goose?”

  “Don’t blame Mama!” Katya cried, jumping from her chair. “It was my mistake!”

  “What did you just say?” Lars focused his fury on the ten-year-old girl.

  Sonja Holberg looked at her daughter in desperation. “Be quiet, Katya!”

  “But Mama—”

  Sonja wasn’t listening; she was too busy trying to distract Lars. “Let me show you how I like to treat big strong men like you,” she crooned, taking hold of his hand and putting it on her breast.

  He forced her face close to his. “You’re nothing but a two-bit German-loving whore.”

  She forced a smile to her quivering lips. “Let’s go back to our room. Please, Lars.”

  “This had better be memorable.” Before allowing Sonja to lead him from the kitchen, he gave the girls a parting order. “Clean up this mess.”

  Minutes later, the thick walls did little to muffle the thuds and their mother’s screams from the other room.

  Katya’s hands were balled up at her sides. “I hate him.”

  “Katya, please.” Lilly kissed her cheek. “We have to be strong for Mama’s sake.”

  She nodded, kneeling down to pick up the debris of broken dishes and cold food.

  Half an hour later, the bedroom door was flung open and both girls were unceremoniously yanked up by strong arms.

  “There’s a stink in this house,” Lars told them as he dragged both of them out to the summer kitchen, “and it’s not from the dead bird.” He let Katya go and pointed to the metal tub she had used earlier to pluck the goose. “Start filling the tub with water!”

  “Why? What are you going to do?” she demanded.

  He answered her with a backhand that sent her sprawling against the tub. “Fill it!”

  His fury filled Katya with dread.

  “Please Katya, just do it!” Lilly whimpered in between bouts of coughing.

  “Let go of Lilly,” Katya begged. “Please! You’re choking her.” Swallowing the blood in the back of her throat, she carried the bucket to the pump on shaky legs and began pushing the handle up and down to release a stream of ice-cold water into it. Once the bucket was full, she half-pushed, half-pulled it over to the tub, managing to pour most of the water into it.

  “Keep going,” he told her before focusing his calculating gaze on Lilly. “You – get your clothes off.”

  Lilly began shivering so hard her teeth rattled. “Please, no—Don’t make me do—”

  Lars grabbed Lilly by the throat and in one vicious movement, he tore the top from her thin body.

  In that split second, Katya instinctively took a swing at Lars with the heavy wooden pail. It hit him squarely in the crotch.

  He howled in pain. “You little bitch! I’m going to kill you!”

  “Let’s go, Lilly. Run!” Katya grabbed her sister’s hand and pushed her out the door. She was about to follow Lilly when she was violently pulled against Lars’ solid frame. “Keep going, Lilly! Go call for help!”

  “You’ll pay for this,” he hissed, grabbing Katya by her hair and dragging her over to a chair in the corner. He groped for the length of rope hanging on a nail on the wall before roughly tying her hands to the back of the chair and her feet to each of the chair’s legs. He smacked her face several times before opening the door to take off after her sister.

  Keep running, Lilly, keep running…Katya’s head was throbbing and she had trouble swallowing the blood in the back of her throat. She tried focusing on the door but her eyelids were swelling shut, making it difficult for her to see anything. “Mama! We have to help Lilly…Mama!!” There was no answer from her mother. Then everything went black.

  ***

  Lilly’s shrill screams woke her. Katya slowly turned her head towards the sound of her sister’s voice and willed her swollen eyelids to open. She immediately recognized the strong odor that burned her eyes and the back of her throat. It came from the brown bottle Lars used to disinfect the barn walls.

  “No more!” Lilly’s agonized entreaty filled the room. “Stop…please!”

  Horrified, Katya saw that Lars had her sister’s arms pinned above her head and was using a coarse horsehair brush to scrub her naked body with the disinfectant. Lilly’s body had been practically scrubbed raw and was a mass of skinless, bloody sores. And still Lars scrubbed, each stroke from his brush wrenching another agonizing scream from her sister as she struggled like a wild animal to free herself from his ironclad hold.

  “Let her go!” Katya begged. “Please!”

  “Not until the German stench is gone,” Lars answered her coldly, putting an arm across Lilly’s slippery chest to get a better hold of her.

  “The only…stink…in…this…room is…you!” In an uncharacteristic show of bravado, Lilly dipped her head and latched her teeth deep into Lars’ forearm, causing him to bellow out in pain. He quickly retaliated by doubling back his other arm and driving it into Lilly’s skull. Her sister’s body flew out of the tub against the heavy wooden table, before crumpling to the floor in an unconscious heap.

  “Lilly!” Katya’s scream was one of gut-wrenching agony. “No!” She struggled as he came towards her. “Mama! Help!”

  “Your Mama’s in no position to help you, you little brat,” he spat out as he unbuttoned his trousers.

  “Get away from my daughter…or…I swear to God…I’ll kill you.” The voice was weak but its intent was unmistakable.

  Katya turned towards the sound of her mother’s voice. Sonja Holberg was propped against the doorway, her face bruised and battered where Lars’ fists had left their angry marks. In her hands was Lars’ hunting rifle, pointed directly at him.

  “Just what in the hell do you think you’re doing—”

  The first shot got him in the gut in a splatter of blood. Before he had time to react, a second shot followed the first, obliterating most of Lars Thomassen’s face before Sonja let the rifle clatter to the floor. Stumbling over to her daughter, she threw her arms around her.

  “Mama, you’re all right!”

  “I’m so sorry.” In between feverish kisses, Sonja managed to untie her daughter before hugging Katya to her.

  “Lilly’s been hurt, Mama!” She struggled to get free of her mother’s arms. “We have to help her.”

  Katya ran over to her sister’s bruised and bleeding body and turned her over. Lilly’s eyes were open but unfocused, and her blue lips were moving silently.

  “Lilly!” She was crying as she kneeled down to cradle her sister in her arms. “Mama’s here, now,” she crooned. “Everything’s going to be all right.” Katya looked at her mother through tear-stained eyes. “Lilly’s cold, Mama. We’ve got to get her inside to warm her up.”

  “It’s too late for that,” Sonja told her quietly.

  “No, it’s not!” She hugged her sister more tightly to her body. “She’s alive. We’ve got to get her inside.”

  Her mother shook her head. “I’m sorry, Katya. We have to get out of here.”

  “No!!!” Katya cried. “We’re not leaving Lilly!”

  Sonja left, going back into the house to search for money and anything else of value. Katya covered her sister with a blanket before resuming her former position, her sister’s limp form cradled tightly in her small arms. By the time Sonja came back and managed to tear Katya from her sister’s side, Lilly’s lips had long since stopped moving.

  CHAPTER 3

  Katya and her mother had been in Droback less than a week when Borghild Holberg found the sign nailed to her front gate. It read “Tyskerunger Not Wanted” and although Katya didn’t understand what the sign meant, it made her mother cry. Ignoring her grandmother’s order
s to go out in the yard and play, Katya snuck back inside and hid upstairs in the sleeping loft, where she could look down into the kitchen without being seen. Her mother and grandmother were arguing.

  “What did you expect?” Borghild asked her daughter angrily. “You made a mistake coming back here.”

  “I had no choice,” Sonja argued. “I needed to bring Katya someplace where she’d feel safe.” Her voice became somber. “She’s been through so much already.”

  “You knew there would be consequences.”

  “All I cared about was trying to keep the two of us alive. No one has the right to judge me for that.”

  Her mother shook her head. “People here don’t look at it that way.”

  “But Katya didn’t do anything wrong,” Sonja told her vehemently, “yet here they are, labeling her a “Kraut” as if she was a mentally-defective freak. Given half a chance they’d probably lock her up in one of those asylums like they did with Hanna’s boy.”

  Katya watched in silence as her grandmother began peeling vegetables for their lunch. Her movements were jerky, encumbered by her stiffened arthritic joints.

  “I’m not saying what they’re doing is right,” Borghild told her abruptly, “but I have to live here. It’s not easy for me, either.”

  “So, you’re condemning Katya, too?” Sonja asked bitterly.

  Borghild threw the onion she’d been peeling into the sink. “How can I? She’s my granddaughter!”

  Sonja picked up the discarded onion and started chopping it. For several minutes, there was only the sound of her chopping. When she finished chopping the onion into small pieces, she tried a more conciliatory approach. “Once everyone gets used to Katya, they’ll accept her. The sign is just the opinion of a few—”

  Borghild put a hand on her daughter’s arm. “Forget about the people here for a minute. Even if they did accept Katya, how long do you think it’ll take for someone to find that man’s body and for them to come looking for you?”